


Mountains to Climb

by Darkestwolfx



Series: March Prompt a Day 2020 [16]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mountains, Tracy Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestwolfx/pseuds/Darkestwolfx
Summary: There were mountains to climb. Always.
Series: March Prompt a Day 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660813
Kudos: 5





	Mountains to Climb

**Author's Note:**

> Morning! So, some of you know, but last night I couldn't get my internet to work, which is why there was no update! They'll be three today instead.
> 
> I know which brother I had in mind when I wrote this, but I realised part way through that I didn't actually need to put in the names. You can choose who you want to be where in this.

**16: Mountains to Climb**

Summary: There were mountains to climb. Always.

Words: 761

Spoilers: None.

* * *

* * *

_Never make mountains out of mole hills._

It was a saying, well-known so his Grandma had said.

But he never really understood it's meaning.

There were mountains to climb.

Always.

* * *

The literal ones on the island, the metaphorical ones within his mind.

Life was a little battleground of mountains scattered around. No sooner did you climb one and reach the top of the world, did another appear in your way. Or suddenly you had to worry about the way down.

People always thought coming down was easier than going up.

Going up required strength and effort. It required patience.

Coming down was like a breeze, a walk in the park. Gravity was on your side as well.

But it was coming down that you had to better watch your step. One little trip and you were rolling head over heels in an unstoppable rhythm. That was the fall which would kill you.

Tripping on the way up might mean you scrape your hands or scratch your knees up, but usually you were better off than if you were coming down a mountain.

Of course, you could always stay up stay.

Sit on top of that mountain for the rest of your life and stare down at the world. See it passing by, moving before your eyes, ticking along without you… because up there you could be like a King sat upon a throne, but you would be the coldest and loneliest you would ever know.

That was the price you paid.

To live at the top of the world,

To climb mountains… that was a part of life, literal and metaphorical, all the same.

To climb the mountains was actually the easy part, the ritualistic element.

To be able to stay up there, all alone, that was the harder part.

From the top of the islands tallest peak, you could see across the wide expanse of ocean, towards the next shorelines resting beneath the setting sun.

The stars would rise next, truly the highest points and then they would bow and allow the sun to take their place. They were like Kings and Queens, alternating who had dominion to sit upon the throne. They were like shadows to each other's light.

Often, people chose to climb mountains alone, certainly those within their minds, for fear that others wouldn't see the same things they did.

No one thought to climb mountains. Not every day. One person did it, others followed. Someone made it to the top, it became a trend, an amazing achievement, then everyone wants a piece. Everyone wants to be able to say they've made it to the top of a mountain.

Just one. Just once in their life.

From the top of the islands tallest peak, you could see across the wide expanse of ocean, towards the next shorelines resting beneath the setting sun.

The stars would rise next.

He sat there alone.

He sat there alone, watching the sun give in the cloak and dagger effect of night.

He sat there, on top of the tallest peak, his mind twisting in turmoil, all alone at the top of the world.

But, gradually, a shadow not belonging to night crossed his path and soon a figure had sat at his side. There were no words. There didn't need to be.

Night closed in on the peak at the top of the world.

Another shadow crossed their path, sat at his other side, the silence held.

Soon there were two more shadows, approaching steadily before diving, arms wrapping, _holding_ like one might try to embrace the sea. It was always shifting, always moving, you could never keep water in your hand.

But he wasn't going anywhere.

Not now he'd climbed the mountain.

He'd climbed the mountain and sat alone at the top of the world.

He'd climbed the mountain, and they'd followed.

Night fell.

Five brothers sat, not alone, on the tallest peak of the mountain they'd climbed, that in the morning they would leave to head back for the ground; but, that when night came again, they would clamber up once more.

There were always mountains to climb.

The physical, the metaphorical.

Sometimes you just had to climb them.

To climb the mountain first in the hope it would show you the way down.

Night turned into morning.

And it was time to climb back down the mountain.

* * *

He still didn't know what it meant.

But he did like to say it.

_Never make mountains out of mole hills._

It had a nice ring to it.


End file.
